


holding you close is like holding the summer sun

by tigriswolf



Series: Alternate Universe [308]
Category: Supernatural, Touched by an Angel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Crossover, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-19
Updated: 2012-06-19
Packaged: 2017-11-08 01:51:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/437805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Castiel has trouble determining Dean’s thought processes and all his superiors are at a loss, as well, he travels to Earth and tracks down an old friend. She has been among humans for awhile and understands them quite well, he thinks — she is just so busy, he does not wish to bother her. So he saves up his questions till he thinks he might burst and then he goes to Monica.</p>
            </blockquote>





	holding you close is like holding the summer sun

**Author's Note:**

> Title: holding you close is like holding the summer sun  
> Fandom: “Supernatural”/“Touched by an Angel” crossover  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Billy Joel.  
> Warnings: spoilers and AU for “Supernatural” season 4; spoilers for basic premise of “Touched by an Angel”; AU for “Touched by an Angel”; reimagining of angelic lore  
> Pairings: mentions of Dean/Castiel  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 1330  
> Point of view: third

When Castiel has trouble determining Dean’s thought processes and all his superiors are at a loss, as well, he travels to Earth and tracks down an old friend. She has been among humans for awhile and understands them quite well, he thinks — she is just so busy, he does not wish to bother her. So he saves up his questions till he thinks he might burst and then he goes to Monica.

She is comparatively young, not having existed during the War and the Fall. She is low in the hierarchy, having never met Father, or even Michael and Gabriel. She is not battle-hardened or world-weary. She is excitable and innocent, and being around her makes Castiel feel very old.

But he is at the end of his rope. Dean is questioning his every word, refusing to listen, and Sam is —

Castiel shudders. He understands brotherhood, but he would follow Father’s command. Dean won’t even listen. So before Castiel loses his temper — and what an experience it is, coming so close to anger. So many things are new, the longer he spends with humans — he goes to Monica.

She is in southern Florida, a substitute teacher for third-grade reading. She does not have a vessel; she forms a body and lives in it all the time except when she returns to Heaven for a rest. So could Castiel have done; only now, watching her simple joy at eating a candy bar does he wonder why he did not.

He follows her back to the apartment supplied for this case and knocks on the door. He has manifested a form very much like his vessel and as he waits, he thinks about releasing the vessel, letting the man return to his life. He could keep this form, or manifest another. Live like a human for awhile, not possess a human.

“Castiel!” Monica says. “Oh, it’s been too long.” She hugs him, kissing his cheek.

Only Monica has ever treated him so familiarly. Even Ananchel, before her Fall, rarely touched him.

“Hello, Monica,” he replies, following her into the apartment. “How goes the case?”

“I must help a little boy overcome abuse,” she answers, offering him a glass of water. “It’s sorely temptin’ to smite the man, but Micah must find his strength.”

Castiel drains his water, leaning back into the couch. “Have you heard the news?” he asks. Sometimes Monica forgets to check in when she sinks into a case.

“Yes,” she says softly. “But I am no Arch. I can do nothin’ in battle save pray.”

“I have come to you for guidance, Monica.” He pauses, searching for words. How to say what he means to? How to describe his problem?

Monica asks, “Do you like humans, Castiel?”

He nods. “I find them fascinating.”

She smiles. “The other day, Tess and I were talkin’. She had heard that you’d been given a case of your own, a human of singular difficulty, but also of singular importance. This human, she heard, could change everything.”

Castiel bows his head. “She heard right.”

Monica pats his shoulder. “And your human is not listening to you. He questions you. He curses and storms off and disrespects you. You long to intimidate him into obedience, but he refuses to be intimidated.”

Castiel sits up, staring at her. Her smile is kind, yet full of knowledge. “We caseworkers, Castiel, are the closest to humans. We don’t love them for being God’s creations; we love them for their laughter and their failures and their chocolate cake. We love them for their newborn smiles and their dying dignity. We are their caretakers and their guardians, and even after centuries with them, we still lack complete understanding.”

She leans in conspiratorially. “But you know what, dear Castiel?” He shakes his head and she smiles again, saying, “That’s what makes it fun.”

She pulls back and stands. “I’m hungry,” she announces. “Want a pb and j?”

Castiel stares up at her.

Monica laughs. “A peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” she elaborates. “I have strawberry jelly. Have you ever tried it?”

“I have only eaten in a vessel,” he says, “to keep up the vessel’s strength.”

“I’ll make you a sandwich,” she decides. “Come with me to the kitchen.”

He follows her again, this friend he has never fully comprehended. “I do not know what to do,” he confesses, watching her bustle around the kitchen, an intricate dance he has observed in thousands of humans. “I have been…” Even to himself, he has not said the words. “I am tempted, Monica. I am tempted by Dean Winchester.”

She drops the bread, staring at him. “Castiel,” she whispers. “Oh, Castiel.” She walks around the counter and pulls him down for a long embrace. “It’ll be alright, dear one,” she murmurs, petting the back of his neck. “God never gives us more than we can bear, you know.”

“I pulled him out of Hell,” he tells her, arms wrapping around her. “I cradled his soul close and gently carried it back to life. My handprint is branded on his skin, the only mark left to him.”

Castiel is shocked to find tears rolling down his face. His voice is hoarse and thick.  
Monica says, “You feel protective of him? You wish to keep him safe, away from hardship and danger?”

Nodding, Castiel pulls back. “I wish to lie with him, Monica. As a man does a woman.”

Monica inhales sharply. “Well,” she says after a moment. “That is bein’ tempted, alright.”

“Should I pray?” he asks. “Repent? Go to Father and confess my failure?”

Monica cocks her head, untangling their arms and going back to the sandwich preparations. “How have you failed, Castiel?”

He looks at her. “I am tempted,” he repeats. “I wish to… to…” He can’t find a word adequate enough.

“You want to fuck him,” she supplies matter-of-factly. “It happens when you’ve been near humans.”

Castiel blinks. “ _Monica_ ,” he says, scandalized.

She laughs, placing two sandwiches on a small plate. “Castiel,” she chuckles, going to the fridge for a gallon of milk. “You are a kind being. You are…” She pours two glasses full, puts the milk up, and carries them to the table.

“I am what?” he asks, nibbling the corner of his sandwich.

She smiles at him. “You are one of the best beings I’ve ever met.”

He ducks his head and she grins. “I don’t know what to tell you,” she admits. “I don’t know Dean.” She sips her milk, studying him. As she sets down the glass, a milk mustache above her lip, she says, “Tell me about him.”

So he does. He stays the night, talking, and she directs him in making breakfast the next morning. As they eat, she suggests, “Continue as you’ve been. Guard him, and guide him. He seems a good man.”

Castiel says, “He is the best.”

Monica’s smile is indulgent. “You are full of love, Castiel, and full of wonder. God chose _you_ for this mission, you of all the angels. He believes in you.”

Her words do soothe him. “Thank you, Monica,” he murmurs, reaching out to take her hand.

She clasps his palm in her hands. “Go back to him. You will know what to do, and whatever it is, it will be right.”

He kisses her cheek and leaves. As Castiel returns to the vessel, he decides to release the man and create his own form.

He can still taste the peanut butter from the sandwich, the cheese in the scrambled eggs, the chocolate in the milk. It is so sharp, so vibrant, when not filtered through a vessel.

Castiel understands now why Ananchel Fell, why she chose to live as a human. He wonders how close Monica is.

As he sinks back into the vessel for one final moment, to explain his actions, Castiel wonders what Dean might taste like, and if his human, the soul he cradled next to his heart, would possibly kiss him back.


End file.
